SHERLOCK HOLMES AND MORIATY: A GAME OF CHESS OF TWO HALFS
by FictionFrend
Summary: Our detective friends and on the hunt for clues and crimes. They have to stop what may be the worst crime of that century, once they work out what it is. They adventure to foil the scheme in darkest Victorian London. They meet some surprising allies and foes along the way.
1. Chapter 1

**SHERLOCK HOLMES AND MORIATY: A GAME OF CHESS OF TWO HALFS**

 **CHAPTER ONE: A NEW CASE AND AN OLD ENEMY COMES ALONG**

The rain was falling hard, bouncing in the gutters and making swirling rings around the drains of London. Overhead it was foggy so you couldn't see more than a few metres. But you could hear footfalls clicking and splashing through the water that had fallen. Look! Over there! It's our favourite famous detectives. Sherlock Holmes and Doctor (Dr) Watson. They're walking this way, and entering an anonymous looking building through its green door. They don't stop to look at the brass doorknob, the brass letterbox, or the brass foot scraper by the bottom of the door, because they're here on business. Business of investigating crime. This is an important case, for the world's greatest detectives. And they had to get dry and start looking for clues.

They'd been sent by the chief of police inspector Lestrade, because he couldn't even get close to crackling it. He didn't like using them, he thought they were either amateurs who always got lucky or maybe they were committing all the crimes and then solving them. He had no proof, but he really liked his hunches. They got him a long way, and his wife and brother liked that. Anyway, the detective and his ally were now walking down the corridor, led by a trusty lieutenant of the inspector, to keep and eye on them and report back any findings. They entered the Room of The Crime with solumn occasion. Holmes looked grave and concerned, and Watson looked curious and was also writing notes in his notebook so he could write up the story later in in the newspaper of London.

In the centre of the room, which was actually a laboratory, there was a dead body of a man lying face down in the floor. And there was blood everywhere. It smelled so much, so the police officer had to go outside with a hanky over his nose. Dr knelt down to look at the body, whilst Sherlock poked around the edges of the room with his special detecting kit. He was pushing tweezers behind things to find clues. "What do you reckon, me Sherlock?" asked Watson. "Well good sir, I believe it was strangulation". "But why Holmes! What about all the copius blood? I am a doctor, as you know, and that does seem a trifle strange". "A mere ruse my friend, have I not told you many times this is all a game? You just line up the pieces, and come to a conclusion." Watson sighed his acknowledgement of this deductive line of reasoning, and continued to look for a pulse. He may not be a detective, but he knew medicine and he would at least be useful there.

I had no clue how he did it, but somehow the detective of fame always saw the clue. He'd followed a trail of seemly random broken glass, and seen a code in it. He was following a trail only he saw, again at a higher mind level than us. He stopped suddenly, squinted, and rolled up an immaculate sleeve. "Ah...now...here we...go...as I...expected...it...to...go" muttered Holmes to himself as he reached all the way behind a cupboard with his arm and kit. "Aha! Ha! I knew it!" he cried with glee, and he produced from behind the cupboard a small envelope. As he brought it over, he slowly flipped it over to show me the inscription. I could scarse believe my eyes. "I can't even believe it, my friend." I said to him, trying to keep my composure. Even after many adventures – like last week's case of the Shempleton well – I never lost my sense of wonder at what will next befall us. Because of the back of the envelope there read the following inscription:

"So, my great foe! We meet again. Only, I am afraid I can't be with you. I see you cracked my 'RED CODE'. Ha ha, such a jolly wheeze that was, to run the police a merry chase. But I knew you would get it. Until we meet again, be ready for the next chain in my plan. It begins with this letter, but did you listen? Yours, M."

"Good Lord!", I cried out "it's your nemesis again the maths professor Moriaty. "Of course, of course" he was muttering to himself. "Come, Watson old friend! He shouted at me suddenly, the game is afoot!" He sprung over the poor body of the poor unfortunate in the room, forgetting it immediately, and ran to the door and through it. I must admit in the excitement, I lost all interest in the sad man below me, and trod quickly through the red pool beside him. God forgive me. I made to follow the great man, but he suddenly stopped still as if in shock. "What are YOU doing here?" He asked I know not who. But then I saw the shadow and knew immediately what was up. It was gross and deformed and cackled like a man possessed. SH had already pulled out his knife and was standing at the ready for the great confrontation with his other nemesis. I reached the doorway and leant out to confirm for myself I saw the prone form of the police officer who had been sent to escort and spy on us. He looked like he was breathing, so that was good. But he couldn't help us because he was knocked out cold. As time slowed down, I looked up and saw to my horror the 'man' who confronted us in the hallway. He had yellow eyes and a red face, as red as the blood I had earlier stepped through. He was dribbling on the floor and cursing us both and God. His cloths were ripped and torn and he was thrashing his claw like nails around as he approached. It was Mr Hyde himself! The good Doctor (Dr) Jeckyl had evidently lost his latest fight with madness and come looking for us. And had found us, for some more sport, like had so many times before.

Holmes was not afraid though. He stould his ground though and had his knife in his hand, and was ready for the confrontation. As well as the greatest mind in the empire and beyond, he was also really good at fighting. The shadow approached. Holmes waited. The shadow got closer. Still Holmes waited ready. The shadow was upon him and me, and I could scarce know what to do. I was close to fainting in horror. Homes just stood there, calm and sure in the storm. The shadow loomed, and Holmes sprung into action. What happened here, dear Readers? Tune in for the next exciting stage in this strangest, most terrifying, and villainous of plots.


	2. Chapter 2

**SHERLOCK HOLMES AND MORIATY: A GAME OF CHESS OF TWO HALFS**

 **CHAPTER TWO: THE FAST CHASE MARCHES ON**

"Fool!" growled Hyde, as he loomed over Sherlock Holmes. "Don't think you'll escape my clutches this time!" His faced twisted into a horrible leer. "But then, why rush this when I can have a little fun? First with you, sir" - and at that he did a little mocking jig on the tips of his feet, oh dear reader I can't describe to you how fast and strange he could be at his worst - " and then with the esteemed doctor here". His head tipped back this and he roared with laughter, his eyes rolling and swiveling in their sockets. He flicked his tongue out at me and pointed a long bony digit in my direction, drooling awhile. But was this a distraction? It's hard to say but so suddenly, terrifyingly quickly, he shot an arm out at my friend, to grab him. But Holmes hadn't for nothing been a student of many a world secret and fighting style: He flicked under Hyde's reach, skidding forward and kicked the back of Mr Edward Hyde's knee, sending him sprawling on the floor. "GRRAWWWLLLRRR!" raged our fo, thrashing around on the floor against the wall. But Holmes was already bouncing down the corridor towards our waiting coach, like a gazelle from the middle of Africa. "Come, Watson!" he shouted down behind him "Let's get out of here!" I had no choice but to grab the officer who had been with us and drag him along behind me, like a sack of potatoes. I made it to the coach barely in time to bundle us both on.

Sherlock Holmes and Doctor (Dr) Watson blazed through the streets of London, skidding round corners and jumping holes on their way, never once looking back. "How did he know where we were?" Watson asked, in a terrified fashion. "Simple" Holmes replied "he was tipped off by our 'friend' of many years". "Your mean Moriaty?" "The very same man". "Good Lord!" "Yes". They were approaching the central police station, where the fog lay thickest that night, so that they could barely see 30cm away in front of them. Young and old had to jump out the way of their ride, as the flung themselves ever on, ever on forward, forward to their base, the two detectives and their unconscious ally. Time could not wait for this case, and neither could our heros follow the usual rules of the road. They had a further tip to follow in this most dastardly of cases, and time was of the essence. Finally they screeched to a stop outside the central station, with sparks coming off the hooves of the horses that were pulling them along so fast. They jumped out and then he led the way through the doors merely waving away the first officer who challenged him. He followed quickly through the door, on their way to Lestarde's office and unit headquarters, at the heart of the office.

They strode past cases and cupboards, each packed with evidence and clues towards cases solved and ongoing crimes: The bandages torn from a man's face, currently at large; Photographs of a huge seafaring craft as it sunk beneath the waves off the coast of Kent with the contents of a locked box; vials of strange blood recovered in both south eastern Europe and London; a sled found abandoned in Antarctica; the dry powder left behind from an elephant gun; a piece of metal, of completely unknown (unearthly?) chemical origin; a knife; the a bottle containing orange hairs, supposedly taken from a decent sized primate loose in France; a newspaper with the headline date apparently dated 1973, found on a street corner in Whitechapel, and no explicable reason. Each in their own way a loose thread, one that the world's greatest detective would at some point knit together into a blanket, part of his great scheme to rid the world of its crime. The door was kicked open and the detectives boldly strode through. "Where have you been?" demanded the chief police." "Following your cold end job" said Holmes." "And clearing up a bit of trouble along the way", I added. "Hmph", Holmes added, absent mindedly, while studying a chess board. This was the game, the game of a lifetime. He'd been playing it for years against our old foe, and was gearing up for his move.

"Never mind that" said the police", there's been another letter arrived. I think it's from him." I was startled. How could he know? "How do you know?" I asked in a surprised voice. He turned the envelope over, with a wry and bitter smile. It had an M written carefully and deliberately on the other side. "Goodness!" Watson cried. Holmes turned sharply at me. "Never mind your nerves, keep it together man! We're going to need all of our wits to fix this one. Hand me that letter" He picked it up, tore it open with an expert flick of the wrist, and walked over to the mantlepiece. Once he'd settled his elbow against it and lit is famous pipe, he began to read. At first he spoke in his solemn, dignified voice. But as he became more absorbed in the letter, his manner seemed to change. It was almost as if he took on the cadence of his foe, the trill, superior, chatter that belonged to the crown prince of crime himself. Let me now share with you what we all heard that night:

"So, I see you've come unscathed from your little 'run in' with our mutual friend. Ha Ha, I bet he gave you quite the runaround, quite the thrill chase. Never mind that, we must get down to business, you and I. Our game, for one. Do send me your move, for I hunger to make my next attack. But also this business we have with your case. Head to the waterfront. Methinks there you will find the next stage in my finely crafted scheme. It's far too late to stop me. But I want you to witness what comes next. Yours, with pleasure, M."

"Oh no!" I wailed to myself, "whatever next?" Obviously they have to go to the waterfront next, to follow the line of enquiry into stopping Moriaty's plan. But how? With what? When can they do this? What comes next? More details to come with the next chapter in our great story.


	3. Chapter 3

**SHERLOCK HOLMES AND MORIATY: A GAME OF CHESS OF TWO HALFS**

 **CHAPTER THREE: FACING AND RUNNING TO THE FUTURE**

So, to it! Our great foe had slipped us yet again, and was no taunting us further. It was intolerable. But what could we do? I was at a complete loss and almost crying. Not so, brave Sherlock. Sherlock Holmes strode over to a writing desk and quickly scrawled out three letters. He folded them into manilla envelopes with meticulous care, and gave them each a wax seal with a bee on it. (Yes, a bee!) He strode back to Lestrade, and handed them to him. "This" he said "is for Mycroft. He's my very own 'dear' brother, as you know. Slower than me, but he has some uses. Pay him no heed if he's tries his riddles on you" I chuckled at this wry joke, as I'd seen them bicker and banter at each other many times over the last few years. So often. "This" he said "you should give to Joe Scroggins. You'll find him at the junction of West Street and East Lane." Who was the man Joe Scroggins? I'd never come across the chap, but felt the thrill of anticipation and adventure. "This" he said "you should give to the secretary of Whitechapel's postal service. He'll pass it on for you to its destination, no questions asked. I can't reveal all my sources in this card game." Something was up, something big. My moustache twitched in anticipation and my glasses nearly almost fell off my face.

Their office work done, the detectives strode out of the room, stopping only briefly for Holmes to move the rook two spaces to the left in a brilliantly defensive manner, and down the corridor once more to their next meeting. This would be a fateful and long overdue confrontation. They bounded into the coach and jumped fast down the street, Sherlock Holmes shouting and crying the horses faster and faster and faster. They were late! Always late, even when they were one step ahead of the crime. At last, after an hour of gruelling riding, they smashed straight into the docklands region of London. It was even more foggy here, like thick glass, so they slowed to a creep amongst the boats and ships, and packs of fish and smuggled rum and snuff boxes and imported gems and furs and pickles and spices and tea. The detective gave it no look, while Doctor (Dr) Watson couldn't resist gazing in disbelief at the crazy ramshackle wonders piled like offerings, and the rough sailors and dock workers scrambling over them like ants. But there was no time to stroll, as suddenly Holmes saw a crime and had to stop it before they could continue. He ran over to an ally with his arms pumping and dived in head and hands first. The good doctor heard a skuffle and ran over as fast as he could. He was out of breath by the time he got there, and peered in to see the last of Holmes punching a rough looking man in the stomach with harsh precision while pinning him against a wall with the other iron hard fist. It was brutal and it was very soon indeed, while I comforted his victim as best I could. I applied some medicine and some kind words. "Next time, pick on a DETECTIVE with skills not a civilian!" he cried with triumph, and once it was over we carried on creeping to our destination. The criminal just lay there and regretted what he'd done.

Finally, they arrived where they should be. This was the beating heart of the docklands, where all the best deals happened. Very fitting this was, as our two heroes were about to make the deal of their very lives. Of their future and our past. Right there on the muddy shore, under a pier and a jetty the fate of London was decided. The merest whisper gave him away. Who? The man they couldn't see. The man who was invisible. The invisible man himself! The once crazed lunatic and bad man, was now was a crafty investigator and righter of wrongs. He had fixed at least a hundred things in this time. Holmes was meant to catch him for his many crimes, and could have done very easily. But now they were allies in the long and twisty war on crime. Watson held back at five metres away and looked at the ground out of respect for the two greats while the greatest detective in the world talked to the ghostly veil of the greatest spy in the empire. He wasn't wearing his trademark bandages you see, that would have shown up his face. "I saw him, you know" it said. "Who?" "You know who". "Ah. Yes. I always do." "He dropped something on the ground as I trailed him between contacts in my invisible form, so I sneakily went to pick it up after waiting ten minutes to be sure he saw no sign". "What?" "This" A purple gloved hand reached out of the dark of the mist and handed Sherlock a letter. The familiar dread cast down over the whole group. It had the telltale M on the other side. "Damn, damn again" Holmes muttered." This is it, he's gone too far and I know what I must do. You must do something for me."

A sigh in the wind, worldwhery with the years of foiling criminals great and tiny. "Of course, anything. You know I still owe you for what you did for me in Surrey, all those years ago. If it wasn't for you, I'd be a dead man. The crowd were baying, and would have caught me for sure. A dead invisible man, rather than just an invisible man that I am now. I owe you a debt of gratitude for saving my invisible skin." There may have been a smile on the chap's face then, but I couldn't see it even with the mist drifting heavily all around us. "Where is the inventor? I need the future" "You're a crazy man to ask and do what I bet you're going to do, and this is not a surprise. Go to this addresses, and he'll be waiting for you packed and ready to go. He'll help you catch this crazed duke of crime before he dooms us all. My business will be ruined if he gets to do what he wants to do." Sherlock Holmes took the scrap of paper, folded it carefully into the top of his cane. and skidded up the muddy beach like a gentleman spider, his feet sliding and splashing as he went about. "Bye!" shouted the invisible man. He ran, how he ran. They both ran as fast as they could to their fate with their hats almost falling off, in the literal future of a fate they could no longer avoid.

Little did I know, thought Watson, while he felt the small gun tucked in his pocket, what was to come next. I'd end up somewhere I could never have expected. And met people I'd never dreamt of. And seen the electricity which rules all things eventually, all in the pursuit of damn Moriaty, damn him to hell. I was going to lose so much, but win so much too. As you'll read next.


	4. Chapter 4

**SHERLOCK HOLMES AND MORIATY: A GAME OF CHESS OF TWO HALFS**

 **CHAPTER FOUR: TIME GENTLEMEN**

He was laughing and I was worried. He never laughed this much normally, and I was worried about the great man's sanity prevailing this time. It was too much stress, too much again and again, when the fate of London rested on his own shoulders. And mine, as his companion and compiler of fortunes, and I hope his friend. As a doctor of the profession of medical I wanted to give him medicine, but there was no time. And in the benefit of hindsight of the future, it turned out we had even less time than I could ever dream of in my wildest dreams! Time was now our mission.

We cantered and careered to a very particular street, in a very particular part of the West End of Brentford (I've been asked to keep the particulars anonymous, so forgive me dear reader), all while Sherlock Holmes was chuckling to himself and muttering something about seeing the future. How could I have known? We both threw ourselves off the coach as it pulled up to an unusual blue door. The coach carried on skidding madly down the street in the lamp lit dark, to who knows where, hoofs sparking on the cobbles to decourative effect. It was too late for us to care, we had business to attend to. My companion smashed the door with his cane. I winced, as a gentleman. He kicked the ground and stomped up and down with agitation, counting backwards and forwards. It was like he was on his favourite substance or something. But he hadn't been for nine months, as I checked. Finally the door opened and there HE was.

The gentleman in question stood there in a very queer coat, like nothing I'd seen before. "Yes?" he peered out squinting into the mild fog (it was still foggy at this time in the night or morning. I'd quite lost track of the hour by now). "Hello Sir, my card I trust will introduce me. We've been a long time coming to this meet, but can afford to wait no longer. We need to enact the plan I wrote to you about earlier tonight. I have a need of your very particular services this time." The stranger stood there, just stood and looked like he was searching his huge memory. Then he focussed and pulled a tatty letter out of his queer coat with a florish and a wink. "I see, yes yes, of course. Come on!" He shouted and flew down the corridor with a smile. Like he knew the adventure was on, and had tasted it many times before. I was dragged down after him, them both, and we arrived at the end. He kicked the doors at the end open to reveal a contraption which I can't even begin to describe, especially inside. It should not have even worked or even existed. The gentleman was dancing and hitting levers and dials all around the central axis, and shouting about fluctuating waves, and quantum waves, and doo das, and I don't know what else. Holmes was calmly sitting back in a diffident wicker chair and drinking tea out of a china cup. It was like they both knew what to do, and I did not.

The room we'd jumped through two doors into was shaking madly and making a strange swirling noise, which got louder and louder for six minutes and then stopped. Holmes looked up from a pile of his papers and addressed me with his eyes locked on mine over the top of both, as the stranger walked up behind him and also looked at me. "My friend, you've trusted me many times, and I need to you trust me one last time. This is it, my friend. The big one. When you open those two doors, you'll need to take a deep breath. This is going to be very strange." He turned to our scientific ally. "As for you, I thank you for what you've done for us. You may be a stranger to our world, but time and again you've shown your allegiance to the Queen. That will not be forgotten." I didn't make head or tail of this exchange. As we left, I turned to him and shook his hand. "I'm sorry, I never did catch your name, sir." "It's alright," he replied with a sparkly eye, "I've gone by many names. Probably another when we next meet again. Maybe another person. But we're not so different, you and I. But for now at least and forever, you can call me The Doctor."

"Yes yes, very good" Holmes rambled as he dragged me out through the two doors by my neck. We cast out down into an ally. A different street. It was colder, still misty, but completely different. I spun in circles with my hands out trying to hold onto something. There was nothing there. There were flashing blue and red lights, and loud mechanical sounds, and a siren in the distance that sounded electrical in nature. I fell down on my elbows and fingers cold. My friend was meanwhile shaking a poor stranger about like a rag doll backwards and forwards. "What year is this? What year? Tell me, damned you!" The poor man was whimpering, and finally held up a newspaper with his fingers. I peered close from the bottom of the floor and saw something incredible. I sware to you on all that is holy it said 12 February 2017. What? I closed my eyes and pressed my elbows to my head and hoped.

Suddenly a kindly hand lifted me up and leaned me against the wall. "Breath, you'll be fine soon". He also extracted the stranger from Sherlock Holmes with a strange gesture and patted him on his way. "How dare you interferer with my expert crime fighting, sir" my friend demanded. "Reveal yourself to me immediately or face my wrath." "Ha ha ha!" the other replied "I've been looking forward to this for a long time", and stepped forward into the light, with a letter in his hand. It had the now familiar handwriting of Sherlock Holmes on the back. I gasped. Holmes smiled with satisfaction. "Yes, said the stranger out loud. "It's me, I'm also Sherlock Holmes. Welcome to the future" and he held out his hands in greeting to us both.

I finally blacked out, and would not awake for hours. When I did, words will struggle to describe what I saw and how I got back. You won't believe my words, but believe you must. For it will be the truth, and I am a man of my word.


	5. Chapter 5

**SHERLOCK HOLMES AND MORIATY: A GAME OF CHESS OF TWO HALFS**

 **CHAPTER FIVE: SISTERS OF MERCY**

"Slow down man! I mean, men!" We were racing really fast bikes down the road, to our intended destination. This was absolutely crazy, Sherlock and I were now men of the future in the very future itself, drafted for a future war I could never have imagined while eating marmalade on toast and a pot of finest tea for breakfast this morning. Left and right we sped and spun and skidded across and around the concrete of the city, dodging and weaving cars, flanking behind them before another deft overtake. The two Sherlocks – mine and this other one we'd barely met – were shouting instructions at me and deductions at each other, barley seeming to pay attention to where was ahead of them. I grew increasingly concerned that these metal horses would soon give up, but they never seemed to tire. Here's what seemed to be happening, as much as I could have any clue, as a hunble general doctor.

Some mad persons had threatened to shred the whole city, and everyone in it, in an instant. There was no clue, no motive, and there was certainly no negotiating position. Sherlock seemed to know this person very personally, from what I could see of their reactions during our quick briefing in the alleyway where the time traveller had dropped us off. A glance here and there was enough, and had to be since they immediately jumped onto the bikes we were now trying to wrest across it was straight onto these 'motor' bikes and out into a whirling dervish of lights and sounds I wasn't ready for. Louder and faster everything seemed to be, beats and honks coming off the walls. I was becoming overwhelmed and longed for the musty quieting mists of my own home London. The quicker we solved this conundrum and neutralised the threat, the quicker we could follow M's trail, hopefully back the way we came.

Leaving a long trail of rubber marking on the ground, we flew sideways into the wall of our rendez vous. There were men of the law all around this building, barking orders. We waved them impatiently aside and walked straight throw, my Sherlock and this future Sherlock. The resemblance was definitely there, in mannerisms and the way they operated, but I could scarce understand how this man could be in two times at once. This was testament to his sheer determination to stop crime, finally and for all. Even time and logic would not stop him on this endless quest. We stormed past police guard tape and banged through the outer door of this building where everything was happening. It was deathly quiet inside compared to outside, so our two Holmes developed a system of quick gestures and movements to communicate their strategy to each other. We stalked over dust and under cobwebs, seemingly at random, but with the detectives apparently spying a pattern they were at pains to avoid. It was uncanny work, and they blinked and waved across the spaces.

We reached the end of another corridor and finally seemed to bowl into the centre of this building the police had been watching for us. Sherlocks both suddenly tensed and appeared hyper alert to stmuli, a mere second before hearing two voices call out in sing mocking unison: "Welcome brother! Or should we say brothers? We've been expecting you, for quite some time. Always so very very clever, but you take your own time." I was shocked out of myself, and couldn't comprehend what was happening. As we walked into the room to confront the origins of these words, my two detective companions looked up at the gallery and each said what my dulled senses seemed to hear as: "Uranus. Sister dear. What a pleasant surprise." Stood on the ledge above the room was two women, clearly Holmes clan themselves from their striking features and arrogant mannerisms (my friend would be the first to confess this latter feature, believe you me).

The future holmes was the more brash and less imperious of the two, and drew himself up to his full height. "Now look here U, this foolishness needs to end. Come home, where you can play chess with our elder brother and solve problems together with our great intelligence. We high functioning sociopaths must stick together in this world, or die apart." This seemed to strike with each of the sisters of a Holmes as they thoughtfully contemplated the offer to lay aside the trigger they each held. But then both Uranus grew angry and cried shouted out "No!" "No!" "My Brother, you lie". "Don't lie to me, brother". "We'll bring this world down around their heads". "We'll blow up this world, and bring it down." "Only no meaning makes sense!" "The only thing that makes sense is no meaning!". I looked back and forth at the sisters as they each shouted out tgether at tge same time. This was escalating, and there didn't seem to be a solution to the coming end of the city. But first between them they brought out a note which made them grin thinly. They explained that that was a note from Moriaty himself, who had clearly somehow got here ahead of us to the future and helped them rig every part of the town up. What could we do? I was at a loss, and the psychodrama was escalating. Luckily, Holmes was apparently ready for the next problem with a ready solution.

Each Sherlock brought out a violin from his coat pocket, and started to play a different tune for his sister. It they were differently filled with pain and hope, and weaved a song of such suptle intelligence and divine whit that I begun to cry aloud in amazement and brought out my kerchief. Far from affronted as the lay man may expect, each Uranus also brought out a violin each, and begun to play along with her respective brother. Two wildly different melodies, each played by two people, rebounded off the walls and echoed around me for what seemed an eternity. The day had been saved by music, and the Holmes were all one, and M had been foiled this time! We had not yet caught up with the crown prince engineer of crime, and a long road lay ahead, but I could not have been happier at that strange moment!


End file.
